Not Content
“’Tis a Gift to be Simple” is one of my favorite songs. Longing for simple living and actually living simply are two very different things. To be consumers in the world while not partaking of everything and anything is restraint which bears fruit. Lest we simply say no at times, one can quickly become pretty miserable filling up on that which does not fill. Being able to put on the brakes, I surmise, tis a gift.
The definition of simple living can mean many things to many people as the heart can drum up the imagination station to create realities that are not so realistic nor good for one this side of the veil.
That’s what happened this past week. To make a long story short, the farm pickup had hiccups. Replacement of seemed likely. Through a series of flip-flops and swip-swaps (I think I just made up a new word), the decision was made to replace the vehicle I’d been driving.
Looking back, the problem started at the very moment the search had begun. Why’s that, you ask? Well, the problem wasn’t that the search had begun, the problem was I didn’t know it had. As the decision was made late into the evening, I rested well while visions of sugar plums danced in my head. That’s right, the sugar plum fairy entered into my imagination station, and I conjured up how things would go down. Certainly, we’d check out a dealership or two. Certainly, we’d drive a few and then go for coffee and talk it over. Certainly, it would be an adventure. I was thrilled.
The next morning, much to the idea giver’s (not me) delight, a proposal was made to drive four hours away from home as he’d found just the right vehicle that would meet our needs. And ladies, you know well what the next question was. “What color is it? Can I see a picture of it? Oh, that looks nice. Sure, that sounds like a fun day out!” And off we went.
As the pedal was to the metal, I soon realized this was not an adventure but a goal. A conquest of sorts to meet the imminent needs of the family, and we were on a mission. Halfway down, I posed the question: “We can look around, right? I mean, we can drive others if we want to, right? Cause what if there is another one that catches my eye?”
Judging by the quietude hanging mid-air, I knew we were not exactly on the same page. I mean, who was I kidding to think we’d hop in the car, drive four hours, arrive an hour or two before closing and actually get to look at more than the one we’d asked about. Reality slowly crept in, and on we drove.
We arrived, we drove, we liked—and as the man behind the desk asked if we’d take it, the wheeling and dealing began in earnest. That’s when I made my exit—on over to the sportier one. The color was fun, it was bright, and I was happy. What can I say? I like color. The other half is happy with beige. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s a lucky man to get a little splash of color in his life (author’s opinion.)
The brilliance of the basic beige human within our household is that he is smart enough to allow me to roam round in my field of dreams. As I wandered, beige sat. As I climbed into the vehicle several times, beige nodded and smiled but did not come join me. Continuing to make the deal was what was happening and, in the end, we drove off into the sunset—not within a beige vehicle, but within one which was called ice sliver—a fancy name for gray.
Did my discontent stop there? It did not. As we made our way home, there appeared to always be one more cute car just up ahead. As I careened my green neck on over to the other side of the green pastures I had just been gifted, I was off road, so to speak.
Then, about a week later, I saw it. A beautiful vehicle was screaming loudly my name. The make and model? Homemade. A small truck was buried underneath a covered wagon type of wood with colorful accents of a few of their favorite things dangling all free like as it bobbled down the road. It simply looked like a pile of fun to have ownership of the self-crafted thing-a-ma-jig.
Soon after, I confessed my covetous spirit, and just as soon an attitude of gratitude moved on in. You see, simple living wouldn’t be so simple if I couldn’t get my covered wagon on up the hill come winter. If the color wasn’t so pragmatic, the dust of the country roads we frequent would most likely be on full display—turning it all to dusty beige.
‘Tis a gift to be simple alright. Seems like Paul found it when he spoke in Philippians 4:11–13: “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” I suppose this side of the veil everything and everyone is a work in progress. But the fun thing about God is that he’s content to wait until I learn to be content in him alone. In him my hope, and in him my content. Amen.
Kathleen Kjolhaug, Theology in the Trenches
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.